He who sheds his blood with me today shall be my brother

Today I had the unique experience of telling four of my Marines they were deploying to Iraq. My supply company had the responsibility of providing 20 Marines total for Operation Iraqi Freedom 9.1, and today we received the deployment roster.

I received the news in an e-mail this morning. Initially, it didn't seem so bad. I thought I would only have to contact one Marine because they were only taking one specific MOS (Marine jargon for "profession"). I contacted him at about 4:00 this afternoon, but really didn't know what to say. This Marine is one of the newest to my unit. He just graduated from boot camp this summer and was in my class at supply school. He has a close family and a long-term girlfriend who he was thinking about proposing to. He's in his first semester of study at Wake Tech... and I told him to put life on hold, starting in December. I don't know exactly what I said... it all seemed a blur to me, explaining the dates and the mobilization process. The bottom line is he's still giving up a year of his life that he can't ever get back. Hopefully his girlfriend will wait for him to get back. Deployments can get long...

After I got back from calling my first Marine, I noticed I had a new e-mail from my Master Sergeant:
"Cpl Abney - Please inform the Marines from 2nd listed below their time has come."

Three more names. Three more calls. One seemed prepared, and said he figured this call had been coming for a while. Another asked a bunch of questions about what would happen with his apartment lease. The third just had stunned silence.

I remember the first time I was told I might be deploying. I had just joined with my infantry company back in Madison and got a call from my team leader one evening. He said he was contacted by the chain of command and that all of us "new joins" who hadn't deployed the first time were going to be augmented to another unit for the duration of their deployment. Anyone listening to the phone call could tell it was killing him to break the news this way. I was his Marine, and I was deploying and he was the one who had to tell me. I didn't think much of it at the time... I was more concerned with whether I was really going to deploy or not. Today I got to experience what my former team leader did. I got to experience it three times. But there is a difference though that makes it easier for me than it ever could have been for him:

They are my Marines, and I am going with them.

Fall is in the Air

Fall is coming... I can feel it in the mornings and I can smell it in the air.  The days aren't as hot, and I find myself wearing sweatshirts and blue jeans to research.  The Packers played a few nights ago in their first preseason game, and I know the college football season kicks off in just a few short weeks.  Its fall again, and I absolutely love it.

To be honest, I'm not exactly sure what it is that makes me so fond of the fall.  Yes, football is my favorite sport, and I do enjoy the cooler weather (though I am aware it will get warm again tomorrow).  Still, there's just something sp

ecial about this time of year.  The world feels new again... the air crisp and clean, and it seems everyone has a fresh start at things.  Maybe that's just an artifact from numerous years of school, college, and now graduate study, but I still feel there is more hope in the fall, and more willingness to give everything a new chance.

Fall brings a lot of great memories too.  Technically, my birthday is in the fall (though I got a test question wrong in Spanish when I wrote my birth month, November, was in the winter... apparently it only feels like winter in Wisconsin).  More importantly, hunting season is in the fall.  Its not so much that I like the killing, or even that my family needs the meat (we could buy it like most other families), but more that it gave me an opportunity to spend time with my dad and to be outside.  There's nothing quite like walking down a woods road with ones father, with all the leaves turning colors, carrying a break-action shotgun given as a gift by a grandfather.  It didn't even matter if we got -- or even saw -- any birds.  Once we finished the morning hunting, we'd get back to the truck and turn the radio on to listen to the Badger game.  It seems those days, they were just starting to get good as it was the beginning of the Barry Alvarez era.  

Another great memory of the fall is boot camp.  Rather, graduation from boot camp.  That year, my sum experience of the fall was when I was on the rifle range with my platoon at Camp Pendleton.  The first week of rifelry was spent sitting on aluminum bleachers, learning about trajectory, windage, and proper shooting form and technique.  What I remember most vividly was the small tree about 300 yards in the background, and watching it change color each day that week.  That was my fall that year.  Boot camp ended for me on October 29, 2004.  I flew back to Wisconsin that night with my family.  Leaving the Marine Corps Recruit Depot in San Diego and watching it disappear as the plane banked towards home was an amazing feeling.  

While I was home on boot leave, I went down to visit my buddy in Madison -- where I would later attend college.  I remember him taking me to my first Badger game ever.  I don't remember who we played or what the score was.  All I remember was that absurd grin that must have crossed my face as the student section spontaneously burst into some hilarious off-colored cheer at the expense of the visiting team.  Its not only me... it happens to everyone the first time they experience historic Camp Randall stadium as the students see it.  Its amazing how fond I have grown of Madison.

September 10, 2006 was when I finished Ironman Wisconsin.  That was a brutal day, and I suspect my pain-induced delirium may be the reason I seem to have so few memories from it.  I remember my roommates threw a house party the night before (thanks again, by the way), and that I was extre

mely nervous as I arrived at the Monona Terrace at 4:00 am to stage my gear and get ready for the event.  I went to the bathroom 5 times in the 45 minutes leading up to the start of the swim, which becomes an even more impressive feat when one considers I was wearing a wet suit.  I got very good at getting that thing off and on in little time.  The year I competed was cold -- highs in the low 60's and rainy -- but we still had the largest group start in Ironman history with over 1700 competitors.  I remember the waves breaking over me as I swam.  I remember freezing in the rain on my bike.  By the time 

I got back to begin the marathon, I seriously considered quitting... then got up, wrapped a safety blanket around my shoulders, and started running.  The first 13.1 miles went pretty easily.  They had the course going throughout much of campus and the capital area, which I was very familiar with.  I ran one block past my ho

use, in fact.  As I wrapped up that first loop, my dad (in cowboy boots and carrying a coffee mug of whiskey & 7-up) ran for a few blocks with me to make sure I was still lucid.  The second loop was less pleasant, but as I rounded the corner by the White Horse Inn and headed down State Street, I knew it was almost over.  Everyone was cheering, and it didn't even matter that I was broken and running on fumes.  I still managed a fast clip down to the finish and was smiling for the pictures.  I didn't remember that we walked home or that my roommate bought me a sub until someone reminded me several weeks later.  I remember crying though, having been overwhelmed with exhaustion and emotion.  Truly an epic moment in my life.

Fall is, also, when my buddy Pete -- the one who took me to my first Badger game -- proposed to his girlfriend Annie.  She said yes... and I just found out.  It puts a nice exclamation point on my story.  Congrat's Pete, and best of luck Annie!

I guess fall is my season.  I love winter -- snow and skiing truly are joys of mine -- and I like how the world greens back up during the spring.  I even enjoy the deep green colors of summer, and grabbing a cold beer on a really hot day.  But that said, they can't compete with the fall, and like I said, the fall is coming... and I can't wait!

"Haste Thee to help me..."

Its been a while since I've posted, but life gets a person busy.  These past 4 days I've been training with my Marines on the rifle range at Camp LeJeune.  Our company recently got a new First Sergeant, so we're all adjusting to the changes.  Life is considerably less relaxed than it was previously, but it really feels as though in conjunction with our new Commanding Officer, these Marines will help take us in a more constructive direction.  I'm pretty excited about it, but that doesn't mean life has gotten easier for anyone.  (I think the latest I slept throughout the duration of training was 3:45 am... and people wonder why I usually get to research between 7:00 and 7:30.)

Anyhow, the rifle range.  The Marine Corps prides itself on every Marine being a rifleman.  We have the most rigorous course of fire out of any of the four services, and it is not trivial for any Marine.  There are no scopes -- everything is iron sights -- and we hit targets up to 500 yards away, requiring that one accounts for windage and weather conditions.  The course of fire consists of two major parts, known as "Tables."  Table 1 is the known-distance (or KD) course, which is what we shot this past week.  Table 2 is combat marksmanship.  Tables 3 and 4 exist, but they are intermediate and advanced combat marksmanship (which I shot with my old unit, but is not essential for supply or most Marines in general) and are thusly not required for qualification.  

Table 1 consists of five courses of fire over three distances.  First, from 200 yards, fifteen total rounds are fired in the sitting, kneeling, and standing positions (five rounds  at each) in 20 minutes.  Then, the shooter stands and waits for the target to reappear before dropping back to the sitting position and firing 10 rounds in under 1 minute, completing the second course of fire.  The third course of fire is five shots from 300 yards in the sitting position.  Then, dropping from standing to prone to deliver 10 shots in 1 minute.  The fifth and final course of fire is 10 rounds from 500 yards in the prone position.  Each shot is recorded and scored from 2 to 5 points, with more points awarded as one hits closer to the bulls-eye.  Each shooter receives the 50 rounds required to complete the firing for a total of 250 points max.  If one scores from 190 - 210 points, they are a Marksman.  211 - 219 points is a Sharpshooter.  220 - 250 points is an Expert.

Prior to leaving for training, I told my parents I was going to the range.  They said they would pray for me, as they know how important riflery  is to a Marine.  As I began the course of fire, my shots were hitting pretty well, but a few key mistakes found me in a delicate point as I walked to the 500 yard line to begin my final course of fire.  From the crude arithmetic I performed in my head, in order to qualify expert, I needed to hit a bulls-eye almost every time from the 500.  I approached the range with the somber knowledge that in all likelihood, I would be a sharpshooter -- something I was not pleased with.  I conceded that I must not have been as good as I thought I was, and that shooting expert at this point was out of my control.  For me to break 220 would take a small miracle.

As I lay down and assumed my prone position, I remembered my parents saying they would pray for me.  As I obtained good sight alignment and sight picture, focusing on the front sight post and sighted in on the black silhouette of the bulls-eye, I humbled myself and started praing.  "Lord, haste thee to help me..."  I slowly began to squeeze the trigger, felt the recoil of the rifle, and saw the target pulled into the pits to mark the shot.  

Bulls-eye.

I slowly refocus on the target, and prepare for my second shot.  "Blessed be the Lord my Rock, who trains my hand for war and my fingers to fight..."  Slow gradual pressure on the trigger... the hammer falls, the round travels downrange and the target drops for marking.

Bulls-eye.

I breathe slowly, methodically, exhaling completely as I gently press the trigger.  "Lord, be my Strong Tower, the Rock in Whom I trust..."

Bulls-eye.

The wind is starting to pick up.  500 yards, 10-15 mph left winds at a half-value... I adjust the rear sight aperture two clicks to the right.  "Bow down the heavens, O Lord.  Touch the mountains and they shall smoke..."

Bulls-eye.

"Oppose those who oppose me, stand against those who stand against me.  Lift up Your spear and buckler, and declare 'I am thy salvation'..."

Bulls-eye.

Nine shots.  Nine bulls-eyes.  One round in the chamber and 2 minutes remaining in the course of fire.  My non-firing hand is numb from the position I am laying in and the midday sun is causing sweat to drip into my eyes.  The sling keeper is pressing painfully into my wrist and rubbing my arm raw.  My vision blurs, then refocuses as I stare downrange at the target.  It has all come down to this one final shot.  I pull the buttstock of the rifle tight to my shoulder and begin to sight in, trying to focus on the fundamentals rather than the importance of this last round.  I center the front sight post in the rear sight aperture and align the pair to the center mast of the silhouette.  I focus on the front sight post, making it clear.  I breathe out and apply gentle pressure to the trigger as the sweat pours into my eyes.  "God... thank You.  To You be the Glory."

The round goes off.  I feel the recoil of the rifle slam through my body as the cartridge ejects and I hear the bolt lock to the rear.  The smell the gunpowder wafts in the air as the target drops for scoring.

I wait, eager... but terrified.

The target reappears, slowly revealing the strike of the round the the corresponding score...

Bulls-eye.

God, Thank You.  I could not have done this by my own power.  To You be the glory.  -Amen.

Honor

Today I leave for 5 weeks of active duty with the Marine Corps at Camp LeJeune. Actually, I have to leave my apartment in about 20 minutes and the only reason I have time to write this morning is because my tie for my Service Alpha uniform tied quicker than normal (and the uniform still fits! I may have actually lost weight since boot camp...). Still, this post will probably be brief. Anyhow... back to the Marines... You can understand how this might be directing my thoughts this morning.

What I was thinking about mostly was honor. In the Marines, we have three core values (which we have in common with the Navy): Honor, Courage, and Commitment. However, the way I see it the other two are covered under honor. For example, to know what must be done, but to be too afraid to do it is a failing of courage. I also see it as being dishonorable. To risk or give ones life for another I see as being the most honorable action any person can make. We even have the Medal of Honor for actions "of conspicuous gallantry above and beyond the call of duty." It seems evident to me that courage is intrinsic to honor.

Commitment too I see as being a part of honor. One can give his or her word that something will be accomplished, but if they lack the commitment to see that through, they dishonor themselves. There is no honor in giving up or quitting, and as such, I see commitment as covered by honor as well.

When it comes down to it, I think if someone were to describe me in one word, I would want it to be honor. I don't know if they would, but that aspiration I see as being worthy of my efforts. Even if honor only includes courage and commitment, think of what being an honorable person would mean. They are unwilling to yield to their fears. They stay the course and make the necessary sacrifices to keep their word. They are loyal and steadfast. What if we applied that in our lives? Marriages? Friendships? What if we all lived for honor?